


Bar Fights

by IShipIt32



Series: The Flowers Series [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Bromance, F/M, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 13:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14286432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipIt32/pseuds/IShipIt32
Summary: The last thing Sansa expected to find when she opened the door was a drunk Sandor Clegane and an even drunker Ned Stark with their arms around each other.Companion piece to Say it With Flowers, chapter 13. Can also be read alone.





	Bar Fights

**Author's Note:**

> This was written just for fun, so if Sandor seems a little OOC, blame it on the alcohol.

The sound of a thump outside the apartment woke her up in fright. Sansa turned around and checked the angry red numbers on the nightstand alarm, 3:24 in the morning. A little scared, Sansa laid back on Sandor's big bed, wishing she wasn’t alone and hearing strange noises. She waited, and the noise died down, just as she was about to close her eyes, the sound of keys rattling and harsh failed whispers made her eyes grow wide in surprise, she knew that voice, she would recognize it anywhere.

Jumping out of bed and wrapping herself on a plaid shirt that lay forgotten on the floor, Sansa left the master bedroom and quickly crossed the hall to open the door. Standing before her, fidgeting with a set of keys, stood Sandor Clegane looking drunk and with an even more inebriated Ned Stark leaning on him for support. Her tall, intimidating boyfriend looked like a puppy that had been caught chewing on its master's favorite slippers, big grey eyes clouded with alcohol and guilt, the smallest of smiles on his face. He was looking at her in adoration, she could feel it, and she was sure she was looking at him in awe.

“What the hell happened!”, Sansa asked as she hurried to wrap an arm around her father’s waist and helped Sandor hoist him inside.

Before Sandor could answer, a sound that could have only been described as a squeal left the always imposing and honorable Eddard Stark and Sandor made a sharp turn towards the guest bathroom just in time for Ned to fall to his knees and empty his stomach on the toilet. Sansa looked at her father from where she stood frozen, only snapping out of it when Sandor dashed past her, across the living room and probably into his own bathroom, moments later, she could hear him heaving too. Slowly stepping closer to her father, Sansa crouched down and rubbed little circles on her old man’s back as he continued emptying his stomach.

“Do think you’ll be okay for a minute?”, she asked after Ned stopped and flushed the toilet, his head resting heavily against the bathroom wall, there was a very slight nod and she walked away.

The sight of Sandor hunched down on the pretty purple bathroom mat she had got for him would have been funny in any other situation, but right then, it partly broke her heart and somewhat angered her as well. Crouching down next to him, Sansa pulled his hair away from his face and rubbed his back, the comfort making him feel better, and a new wave of nausea took over him. He threw up twice more before flushing the toilet and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“Go check on your dad, little bird,” Sandor said with a stupid smirk, and Sansa did her best not to smack him in the head.

Sansa found Ned in the same position she had left him minutes before, looking pale and miserable but much better than when she first opened the door to Sandor’s apartment. She took a hand towel and placed it under running water, soaking it up and then leaning down to clean her father’s face and beard, the cold water made him open his eyes and wake up a little. 

“Dad, you can’t sleep here, your back will be killing you in the morning,” Sansa said as she tried her best to find a way in which she’d hoist her very tall, very sturdy, twice her weight father to the living room couch. She was about to panic when she heard Sandor’s steps coming through the hallway, they were slow and clumsy but she needed help. Even drunk, Sandor was stronger than any man Sansa had ever met; her dad included in that category, and with a gentleness that surprised her, Sansa saw her boyfriend hoist her father up.

“A little help, girl,” Sandor said, all bark and no bite in his voice.

“Watch it, Clegane,” a slurry stream of barely audible words left her father’s mouth and Sansa couldn’t help but smile. 

Together, they walked Ned to the main bedroom, where Sandor pretty much dumped him like a sack of potatoes. Sansa helped her father take off his shoes and then pushed him a little deeper into the mattress; he had passed out almost the second his head hit the pillow. 

“Sandor?”, she called into the darkness only to see a large bulge already fast asleep on the bed along with her dad.

Tired, Sansa went to the kitchen, got two glasses of water and a bottle of aspirins and placed them on the nightstands. She picked up an empty trashcan and set it by her father’s side, then picked up the one from the bathroom and left it by Sandor. After making sure both men were breathing easily and wouldn’t roll off the bed in their asleep, Sansa left the door wide open and made for the couch wondering what in the seven hells had happened.

* * *

Sansa woke up to the sound of rain hitting hard against the window; it took her a second to remember why the hell she was sleeping on Sandor’s couch when she had come to his place to surprise him, it only took her a minute to remember what had happened. Rubbing sleep off her eyes, Sansa walked to the bedroom to check on the two most important men in her life, the sight she found made her smile. Tiptoeing to the nightstand, Sansa picked up her phone and opened the camera application, making sure the flash was off and the phone was on silent, she snapped a picture of Sandor and Ned both on their sides, frowned brows and mouths slightly opened, facing each other lost in their drunken sleep. Happy to know that they hadn’t choked on their own vomit, Sansa considered making a loud noise to wake them up but decided not to be cruel, instead, she walked towards the kitchen to brew some coffee.

“Hey mom,” Sansa whispered into the phone when her mother finally picked up.

“Sansa! Dear, I just woke up to a strange text message from your father and an empty bed! Is he okay? Have you heard from him?”, her mother’s concerned voice filled her ears, and she couldn't help but smile, after all those years, her mom still worried that her father hadn’t slept in their bed.

“They came literally stumbling in at three in the morning, threw up their guts and passed out on the bed,” Sansa said very matter of factly, trying to hide the amusement in her voice at the sound of her own words, what the hell had happened last night? “I’ll make sure he’s sobered up a little before sending him off in a cab.”

“Your dad passed out drunk?”, a soft chuckle came from her mother’s end of the line along with her words and Sansa smiled, “Your father, mister one-glass-of-scotch, got blind drunk with your boyfriend, threw up his guts and passed out on Sandor’s bed?” 

“Well, when you say it, it does sound hilarious,” Sansa couldn't help but laugh now, the entire scene absurd scene replaying in her head. 

“Are they spooning?”, Catelyn Stark asked as she laughed into the phone.

“Mom! Gods, I would have thrown up! I’ll send a picture, I hear grumbling, I’ll text you later.”

Sansa left her phone on the kitchen counter and played with the long sleeves of Sandor’s shirt, walking across the room, she found a visibly hungover Sandor standing by his bedroom door. 

“That’s the wrong Stark in my bed,” Sandor said, his voice raspier than usual and somehow his innocent comment in that low voice lit a small spark in the pit of her stomach. 

“Made you coffee,” Sansa said as she walked up to Sandor, “You look like hell.”

Sandor chuckled and lifted a hand to cup her cheek, pulling her to him and kissing her forehead. Sansa’s hand went up to meet his and the second her fingertips brushed against the back of his hand, she knew something was wrong. Pulling his hand from her face, she looked at his knuckles, raw and already scabbing. 

“Sandor?”, she asked, her voice slightly panicked, her eyes and hands flew to his head, cupping his cheeks and inspecting his face for any other wounds she might have missed in the dark.

“Coffee first.”

Sandor placed a soft kiss on her temple and walked away, leaving Sansa frozen to her place for the second time in less than 12 hours. She was about to complain when she heard her dad waking up, if Sandor was hurt, there was a chance he would be too. Closing the distance between her and the bedroom, she saw her father's right side, a black eye on full display. 

“Sandor!” Sansa screamed, her father sat up straight in a second and pressed his hands over his ears, “Living room, now!”

Sandor looked smug, sitting back on the couch with a cup of coffee between his hands, his raw knuckles completely forgotten to him. Her father, on the other hand, looked like a child about to be scolded, a sickly shade of green still on his features making his black eye look worst to wear, his knuckles were also a bit red, but not as cracked as Sandor’s. The idea of her father and her boyfriend getting into a bar brawl was both amazing and disturbing; she knew they got along quite well, she was actually thankful for it. When she first brought Sandor home, she was scared her parents wouldn’t even try to know him before dismissing him; she was pleasantly surprised at how welcoming they had been. Sandor got along better with her father than Jon or the rest of her siblings, except for Arya, he said it was because he was closer in age to Ned Stark than Jon Snow, but Sansa dismissed him and called him dramatic. Anyway, the two men had bonded and usually enjoyed a cigar or a glass of scotch in family lunches or dinners, but from that to stumbling together drunk? Well, she couldn’t see how that happened.

“What on earth happened to you two? I thought you were going to watch a game.”

The two men looked at each other and smiled, Sansa’s heart leaped at the camaraderie between them. After a soft nod from Ned, Sandor started speaking. They had indeed agreed to watch not a game, but _the_ game together. Sandor rooted for City Watch while Ned had always been a fan of Night Watch, Sansa couldn't care less who the teams were, but she figured that if a man of such few words as Sandor mentioned the teams, it was relevant. Indeed it was because Ned had shown up with a few beers and while they waited for the match to start, Sandor made a smart comment of how City Watch would destroy Night Watch. A bet ensued, whoever lost would have to buy the other a double Valeryan Scotch, a drink that apparently cost fifty golden dragons. Anyway, when the game reached the halftime, the teams were tied, they were out of beer, and they were both hungry. Naturally, they picked up their wallets and walked to The Brotherhood, Sandor’s favorite bar just a few streets away.

Ned picked up the story then, going into detail of the play by play of the final minutes of the game and how Night Watch scored a goal and won the game. Sandor paid up, and Ned said the drink was too good to be enjoyed alone, so he bought Sandor one. They were making small talk, something both men hated; while listening to the commentaries after the match, that was until a group of college-age men walked in and started buying everyone rounds.

“We took them, of course,” Ned said, and Sansa pieced together who had taught Arya never to refuse a free drink.

Ned told her how they had finished their fancy scotch and accepted a few rounds of cheap beers from the guys, they were both tipsy by now, and Sansa wondered how much alcohol that fancy scotch had in it to make two grown men stumble. They were about to leave when Ned saw them, Petyr Baelish and a young man, a little older than Sansa maybe, with sandy hair, blue eyes, and a smug smile. Fueled by the alcohol, Ned elbowed Sandor, and they saw the two men taking a seat by the bar, Sandor apparently recognized Harry Hardying from the descriptions Sansa had made and the fact that he was with Littlefinger. Someone bought them another round, and they went to sit by the bar, far enough not to be spotted but close enough to be able to listen to their conversation. For forty minutes they saw Harry Hardying making waitresses uncomfortable, and Petyr Baelish drink some pansy drink while he talked how the North was boring and dull.

“Peter fucking Baelish had the nerve to say that everything here is worthless except for two things, and they both had blue eyes and auburn hair,” Ned said. His hands fisting on instinct, Sansa had very few times heard her father curse, and while she was a little shocked, she heard Sandor chuckle, actually chuckle.

“So your father chugs his beer and starts walking to Baelish. I’m a big fucker Sansa, I don’t scare easy, but gods be damned, I would have been scared if Ned Stark was walking towards me with that look”, Sandor said sounding almost proud, “Of course, I wouldn’t let a man go in without backup.”

Her dad went back to telling the story, making sure to downplay what had happened. He had approached Baelish and asked him who was he talking about, Petyr had stuttered, and Ned had pressed on, Harry had tried to come in Baelish’s defense, but Sandor shut him right up with a single glance. Apparently, Ned placed a hand on Petyr’s shoulder and squeezed hard, Petyr pushed him and Ned lost it, decking the guy to the floor. Harry jumped in and tried to shove Ned but Sandor had just been waiting for the lad to make a move and he took Harry by the collar and punched him too, straight in the pretty dimples of his pretty face.

“Did professor Baelish hit you back, dad?” Sansa asked still trying to wrap up her mind around what she was hearing. “Did you cause a bar fight?”

“No, sweetheart, a few guys actually backed us up, Petyr Baelish doesn’t mix well with guys at bars. Anyway, they helped us pick them up and all but tossed them to the street, the owner, Sandor’s friend, even thanked him for hitting Harry. We got a few free rounds after that; I remember everything right up to the tequila shots.”

“You did tequila shots?” Sansa asked in disbelieve, “But, wait, the black eye?”

“Well, Little bird, your dad decked Baelish but lost the battle to a sneaky chair, that’s the result of an impact against a table.”

“But we’re not telling your mother that,” Ned said and pointed to his face, “This was for defending her honor, you hear me?”

Sansa couldn't help but laugh then. Her mom had always told her that ‘boys would be boys’ when she saw Bran and Rickon fighting and then hugging as if nothing had happened, well, apparently boys would be boys no matter their age. Sansa nodded in agreement, and Ned asked if he could have a shower before going home, Sandor told him to make himself at home, and where to find sweatpants and shirts. They remained silent for a few minutes; she was still looking at Sandor in awe and a bit of disbelief when he stood up to get a second cup of coffee. Silently she followed him to the kitchen and wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against his back. 

“I’m sure I smell terrible,” he mumbled as he put the coffee pot down and turned in her arms, “What’s with the dreamy look?”

“This was not what I meant when I asked you to bond with my dad,” Sansa said with a smile but pressed herself further into him. He did smell terrible, his eyes were bloodshot, and the rough denim of his jeans felt uncomfortable but how could she not fall deeper in love with him when he had decked a guy and had her father’s back in a stupid fight.

“Gods, please wait until I’m gone,” Ned Stark joked as he walked towards the kitchen. 

Seeing her dad wearing her boyfriend’s clothes was weird, they looked a little big on him, but he could pull it off. Ned walked towards the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, Sandor shifted and untangled himself away from Sansa, she wondered what that was about. Saying that it was now his turn to shower, Sandor left the two Starks alone in his tiny kitchen.

“He’s a good one,” Ned said as he pressed a kiss to her temple, just like Sandor had done earlier that morning. 

Usually, her daddy smelled like the ocean and ice, but at that moment he smelled like pines and earth, he smelled like Sandor, and though the scent was comforting, it felt entirely off. Ned didn't say anything else, he simply sat down on the kitchen table and checked the messages on his phone, she saw him type something with a smile and knew he was texting her mother. A five minutes later, Sandor joined them back in the kitchen, his hair wet and loose, he was wearing pajamas, a silent declaration that he was going back to bed once Ned was gone.

“Well, I have overstayed my welcome. Sansa, you need a ride back home?”, Ned’s voice was serious, and Sansa felt like a teenager again. She had planned on staying with Sandor, joining him in bed and teasing him a little, kissing those lips she had been dreaming of kissing since the afternoon before. She felt herself blush and prayed that Sandor wouldn’t open his big mouth and say some rowdy comment, “I’ll take that blush as a no. Sandor, there’s another game in two weeks.”

“I believe a twenty-four pack should be enough,” Sandor said as he placed a lazy arm around Sansa’s shoulders.

“I’ll make sure you have food to soak that beer,” Sansa said casually, surprised at how at east the three of them were. 

“Good. I’ll get going now… Thank you for taking care of us, sweetheart”, Ned said as he leaned down and kissed her forehead, “I’m still watching you, Clegane.” 

“Good luck with the wife,” Sandor replied with a smile.

Thirty minutes after her father walked out the door, Sansa got a text from her mother saying that her dad had just pulled into the driveway. She tossed her phone into the nightstand and went to lay down next to Sandor, who had the TV on some sports channel. She scooted closer him and he pulled her towards him, turning off the TV and burring his nose on the crook of her neck, she felt him take a deep breath and then relax against her, placing a soft kiss on her skin. Sansa smiled, feeling warm and cherished, feeling whole in a way she hadn’t felt in years. She sank against the mattress, pushed her bottom against Sandor’s crotch and lowered one of his hands just under her breast.

“I should get drunk with your father more often,” Sandor mumbled as he started kissing and nibbling her neck, pulling the collar of her shirt to allow access to her collarbone.

“I don’t want to talk about my father right now,” Sansa said as she turned and kissed him passionately, “Let's talk about which Stark you like most in your bed.”

There wasn’t much talking involved until a few hours later.


End file.
